Post Reichenbach Sherlock
by VexandRue
Summary: This is a fan fiction about John after The Reichenbach Falls and Sherlocks return. Do not read if you haven't seen the last episode of series two. My first time writing Sherlock fan fiction, I hope you enjoy it and please review and favourite. Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

This is my first time writing sherlock fan fiction, so its not great, but hopefully I'll improve as I write more. Reviews and favourites are very very much appreciated! This will go on for a few chapters, and may have a few olderreferences later on, hence the rating.

**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. They all belong to the BBC**

**Thank you!**

* * *

John thanked the taxi driver absentmindedly and handed him some money. Climbing out of the taxi, we walked down the now familiar path to his least favourite place in the world. Sherlocks grave.  
Stopping short of the grave, his breath caught in his throat. His head starting pounding and for a second he thought he was going to fall. Someone was standing in front of the grave. Someone he knew.  
Hurrying towards the grave, he stopped beside the woman and stared at her incredulously "What are you doing here?" He demanded, a tinge of aggression colouring his tone. The woman raised her perfectly kept eyebrows at him and smiled. The smile wasn't what John was used to seeing. It wasn't cocky or triumphant. It was sad. Very sad.

"He was a great man," said Irene Adler, a mixture of admiration and sadness in her voice.  
"Can't I pay my respects to him as well?"

"Yes but how are you alive?" Exclaimed John incredulously.

Irene tilted her head to the side slightly and stared at John thoughtfully. "He really never told you?"

"Who never told me what?" Asked John impatiently.

"Sherlock."

"What about Sherlock?" Demanded John angrily, the pain still fresh in his voice.

Irene raised her eyebrows and sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, Sherlock saved my life. "

John shook his head resolutely. "No. That's impossible. Mycroft investigated your death himself."

Irene rolled her eyes. "John you knew him better than most. Perhaps better than anyone. Do you really think he couldn't cover up something trivial like that?"

"Trivial?" Exclaimed John. "The footage Mycroft found, showed you being murdered."

"Merely some editing on Sherlocks part."

"He tricked his own brother? One of the smartest men who's ever lived?"

Irene sighed once again. "Mycroft underestimated Sherlock. I underestimated Sherlock. So did Moriarty. Everyone who met Sherlock underestimated him."

"Moriarty didn't underestimate him," said John quietly. "He killed him."

Irene tilted her head again. "That's not what the newspapers said."

"Yeah, well screw the news." Said John, quiet anger in his voice. "We both know Sherlock would never kill himself by choice. There must have been a reason. And it must have been important, or Sherlock would never have had to die. "

Irene turned to stare at the grave. The headstone was very plain, and wasn't surrounded by flowers like the other graves. However it was well kept, and Irene could guess by who.

"No one ever visits, they all think he's a fraud." Said John quietly, his voice catching at the end of the sentence.

"I need to go," said Irene calmly.

"Wait!" Said John urgently. "I want to know more about this."

Irene turned and stared at him. "I'll see you tomorrow night. At your place."

"You don't know where I live." Said John.

Irene regarded him for a moment. "You live at 221B, Baker Street."

"Not anymore." Said John slowly.

"I'll see you at 221B," said Irene, then walked away, leaving John to stand alone at the gravestone of his best friend, like he did every day.


	2. Chapter 2

John stood on the doorstep and rang the door before he could have second thoughts about what he was going to do.  
About 30 seconds later, the door opened and a familiar faced woman appeared at the door in her cooking apron and oven gloves. "John!" She exclaimed, clearly shocked to see him.

"Mrs Hudson," he replied. "I...have a favour to ask."

"Of course John," answered Mrs Hudson readily. "Anything you need."

"I..well I was wondering if I could move back into the flat. At least for tonight. After that...I don't know."

Mrs Hudson frowned and bit her lip. "John..I-"

"Of course, I'll pay to use the flat. And I'm aware it will be more expensive without Sh- without a flatmate, but I have a bit of money saved up from the last few months."

"John, normally I'd be more than willing, but, well I already agreed to let a man move into the flat." At the hard expression that appeared on John's face, Mrs Hudson rushed on. "Of course, in no way was I trying to replace Sherlock, but, well I needed the money, and the gentleman was lovely."

It took a few moments for John to reply. "No...no...of course, that's fine. It's your flat to do what you wish with."

"The gentleman who moved in, a certain Mr Smith, said he was keen to find a roommate in the coming weeks. He only moved in yesterday," said Mrs Hudson hesitantly. "I understand you may not want to but.."

"No," replied John quickly. "I would like to meet him at least. Is he in at the minute?"

"I assume so. He doesn't leave the house much. Quite a quiet man actually. " said Mrs Hudson, leading John up the stairs to the familiar apartment.

When Mrs Hudson reached the door, she paused and knocked. "Mr Smith, it's Mrs Hudson. Someone would like to meet you."

The door opened, and a tall, thin man appeared at the door with a black suit on, and an old wooden walking stick in his hand. He had a pair of glasses on and an old checked hat on his head. He smiled warmly at Mrs Hudson then turned his attention to John. John thought he saw the man's smile drop for a second, but decided it must have been his imagination, because the man had a friendly and genuine smile on his face as he said "Come on in," in a thick Scottish accent.


End file.
